The Kids of War and Peace
by thrufirewithoutaburn
Summary: Searching for glory and understanding, Tunny left behind everything he knew for a lie. But, in buying that lie of America's Favorite Son, he found the only truth he would ever need.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first American Idiot fic. I've noticed that there is an astounding lack of Tunny/Extraordinary Girl in this archive, and I wanted to take strides to fix that. They're my favorite couple in the story. I hope you enjoy! This (Just so you know) takes place a month after Tunny is deployed to Iraq. **

_**I'm dedicating this to Stark Sands. I had a family member go to Iraq to fight. They didn't die, but I lost him to the war there all the same. Seeing Stark in American Idiot made me come to terms with what I lost. Stark will forever be both Tunny and a hero to me. **_

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**Tunny Clarke knew he had been lied to about the military the second his tan boots hit the sands of Baghdad, Iraq. Slipping on his sunglasses, he looked around the smooth, desert terrain. It looked nothing like the advertisments promised or the recruiters swore it looked. Even in March, the heat bore down through his fatigues, and sweat instantly brimmed his face.

He dreamed, they told him, that the military brought about medals, women and glory. But the only medals the military brought him were his metal dog tags that strung their way around his neck. The only women he saw were the veiled Iraqi women, who steered clear of any American contact. And Glory? Glory was as far away as Jingletown and the life he left behind there.

In spite of those lies and false hope, though, he settled into life in Iraq quickly. Tunny, like all soldiers, had to. He spent most of his time in the field, guiding convoys across the expansive deserts. They narrowly escaped land mines, dodged packs of terrorists, and thwarted any attempts to hijack the American property. And soon, he found himself almost enjoying his life there. The work fulfilled him in a way that he knew Johnny and Will never could understand. He felt that, in a way, he was creating a generation of little Johnnys, Tunnys, and Wills in Iraq. By fighting over there, he gave them the right to complain about their parents, the Establishment, and the Blah-fucking-blah, as Johnny would say. And to Tunny, that was enough. Or, so he thought.

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"Getting transfers tomorrow," his Commanding officer commented to him one afternoon.

Mail time at the base quickly became Tunny's least favorite time of the day. No letters came for him, not that he expected them anyway. His father, as usual, disapproved of his decision. Johnny vowed to never speak to him again once he joined up. So, Tunny took to conversing with his CO during afternoon mail time to lighten his mood. Tunny liked the old Southern man, he realized, and enjoyed his superior's company.

"Really?" he asked, looking up at the unsmiling man from his cot.

C.O. White nodded and handed a thick stack of letters to the boy in the bed across from Tunny. The young Clarke boy fought down a bout of jealousy at the sight of the letters, turning his eyes away to keep from lunging at the man who greedily sped through the words from home.

"Really," White began gruffly before looking up at Tunny, "And guess what they got with 'em?"

Tunny shrugged and lay back on his cot, the jealousy passing with each of his leader's words. He interlocked his hands and placed them behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. He already knew that constructers placed exactly 278 ceiling tiles in the room, but he began counting once more anyway.

"I don't know, White. Beer?" He deadpanned.

_What else could get an old Southern buzzard like you so worked up?_

The man shook his head and looked down at the young man.

"Even better."

General dissent broke out amongst the men in the barrack. To soldiers in the desert, a home comfort, such as beer, was as perfect as anything could get.

"C'mon, White. There ain't nothing better than beer," Staff Sergeant Rivers, America's favorite son, said, standing from his bunk.

He grabbed his letters from the his Commanding Officer with a laugh and blindingly white smile. How he managed to keep them so brilliantly shiny even in the harsh desert conditions, Tunny never could fathom.

"This is better than beer, Patriot," White insisted, using Rivers' call-sign.

A young, skinny man named James Dileo stood from his bed and followed Rivers' lead. He picked up a letter from the older man, instantly proceeding to tear it open. The sound of the ripping envelope made Tunny sick to his stomach with loneliness.

"Well, if it's better than beer, it could only be one thing."

A knowing look crossed over White's face as comprehension dawned on Dileo. He nodded, a smile finally creeping onto his face.

"That's right, men. Women. The transfers have got women in their platoon."

Uproar filled the barracks as the men whooped in victory. To the passerby, it may have seemed as though the men just won a huge battle on the front lines or found the cure to all cancers. But no, they cheered for women joining them on their base. Quickly, the men turned to the older, wiser man, and pumped him for information.

"How many are there?" A young man shouted, leaping from his bed across the barrack and lunging toward White.

"You said they get here tomorrow?" Rivers asked, slipping on his sunglasses and mentally planning to wear his good fatigues in the morning.

"Where are these girls coming from?"

"What do they do? Artillery?"

"Ah, man, nothing's hotter than a chick with a gun-"

Tunny allowed the conversation to become background music in his mind. He sat up from his bed, shock flooding him. Women on the base. Tomorrow. He hadn't seen a woman-one that wasn't covered from horn to hoof in veils, that is- since his basic training.

"Who knows, Tunny? There may even be one desperate enough to hit you up," Rivers joked, slapping Tunny on the shoulder.

The possibility filled Tunny's empty, loneliness with a small, whisper of hope. He drowned it out with doubt, but soon, he found that that whisper would soon become a deafening roar.

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_April 1,_

_Dear Will,_

_I guess I never told you. I'm in Iraq, fighting the war here. Johnny might have told you, but you never know with him. I had to get out of the city. I had to get away from the rage there. I couldn't take it, Will._

_ I miss you guys sometimes, though, when I'm out here on patrol by myself or waiting for a fire fight to start. It gets lonely. Give my love to Heather and the kid. Tell my dad to rot for not writing me since I've been here. _

_~Tunny_

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**So? How do you like it so far? Good? PLEASE review!**

**I promise that my chapters will get much longer! This is just the first one! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all so much for the amazing reviews! I am so glad that you like the story! I hope you like how it continues! Please keep reviewing! It really means the world to me.**

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That night, Tunny joined his men on their Patrol. They wrapped themselves along the fence line, each in their assigned position, looking out onto the seemingly endless desert. To Tunny, staring out at the sprawling sand, it seemed hard to believe that the world even held both Jingletown and the desert before him. They seemed more like galaxies apart, not just an ocean apart. Hours ticked by silently, cigarettes blazed in the thick darkness, and eventually, the sunrise silently rose over the dunes in the distance. Tunny looked up to watch as the minutes brought more and more light. He never took the time to watch a sunrise before his deployment, a fact that he constantly reeled from. How could he not have wanted to watch the sunrise, as awesome as it was? First, the sun started as a tiny light on the farthest reach of the horizon, but then, it slowly blazed to cover the whole stretch of skyline, flooding the entire valley with light.

"Clarke, stop being a girl and get your eyes away from that damn sunrise!" Rivers called out to him.

Answering his superior's orders without question or comment as he had been taught, Tunny begrudgingly lowered his eyes from the rising sun to the expanse of traveling land in front of the base. Even from three feet away, Tunny both heard Rivers chomping on some gum, and smelt the sickly sweet pink scent of the American candy.

"Well, King, cheer up! Only three hours and twenty-eight minutes until our lovely new transfers come to be swept off their feet," Rivers said, standing along side Tunny, addressing him by his newly acquired call-sign.

Tunny tore his eyes away from his post and looked at the dark-skinned superior. Rivers stared out at the land before him, his expression blank and his eyes covered with the most reflective and polished of sunglasses.

"Rivers, they aren't going to be so easy for you," Tunny said.

Sharply, the man turned to look at the Private. He slid his glasses off and looked down at him.

"What'd you just say to me, Tunny?" he asked, as though the possibility had not even occurred to him.

Tunny looked back out over the fence line, surveying the land. America's favorite son burned his gaze into the younger man's face, and Tunny refused to meet such a heated gaze.

"I'm just saying that they're here to do a job. Getting laid probably isn't as high a priority for them as it is for you."

At this, roaring laughter burst through the fence line, disturbing and breaking the silent stillness of the desert. Rivers bent over, gripping his sides with delightful pain. He stomped his feet and threw his head back, as though it was the most ludicrous thing he ever heard.

"Ah, Clarke, you kill me. You really do. Those girls aren't gonna know what to do with themselves when they see you."

Tunny's eyes shot to meet the other man's.

"What d'you mean by that?" He asked.

But by that time, Rivers checked his watch and looked out over the fence one last time.

"Alright, men, shift change! Dismissed!" He called.

The echo reverberated across the boundary as the men responded and passed the news along down the line.

"Twelve hours off," he muttered to himself, sliding his sunglasses back on.

A sloppy, confident grin plastered itself on his face.

"Gotta go get me a woman!" He shouted, smiling back at Tunny before nearly throwing himself down the metal ladder.

Tunny, for one, just wanted to sleep.

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And he did just that. After picking up a bite to eat at the mess hall, he high-tailed it back to his barracks before anyone from high command could order him to do some work that wasn't actually his. As his daily routine called for, Tunny lay awake on his bunk for a long series of moments, staring at the ceiling and thinking about all that passed that night and what would come when he woke. He knew that when he rose again, the base would be aflutter with the new arrivals, and he knew that nothing would be the same. And, as it normally did, the promise of chaos put his heart at peace.

He woke several hours later to a sharp, wrenching kick in the gut.

"Dammit, what the-"

Tunny spluttered up, looking around for the culprit. He rubbed his side gingerly, assessing the damage. He looked up to see Rivers talking to a woman. She stood with her back to Tunny, but Rivers' eyes, for once not covered in tinted shades, shone with possibility at the woman being in their barracks.

It worried Tunny to no end.

"And that lovely ray of morning sunshine is Private Tunny Clarke, call-sign King. Wake up, Clarke. Meet the lady."

Then, Tunny heard a voice that struck his ears like beautiful music. A small laugh rung through the barrack.

"Why do they call him King?"

Rivers chuckled and watched as Tunny rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"We call him King," he began, crossing away from the girl, "Because he sleeps all day like a pampered King."

Rivers grabbed up the boy by the back of his undershirt, "And is politer than royalty."

A beat passed as Rivers rethought those words.

"Usually."

Then, Tunny felt the hands of the young Staff Sergeant throw him to his feet. He landed hard, barely keeping his balance. Indeed, he slipped and threw his arms wildly in the air, grasping onto the first thing he touched: A small, warm hand. As if in slow motion, he fell to the ground, dragging the arm down with him. At the moment his back slapped onto the unforgiving concrete of the barrack floor, Tunny felt a presence land squarely on his chest. He opened his eyes wearily, almost afraid to do so. A startling pair of wide, brown eyes met his. The silent smile played in those eyes, and Tunny found himself smiling back. A woman, a real woman, beamed down at him as though he were the most important, interesting thing that the world over possessed. Tunny's speech faltered, and felt as though all the air in the world could not fill his breathless lungs-though, whether that was from the fall or the smile, is anyone's guess.

"Well, hello to you too," She said.

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_April 2_

_Johnny,_

_I know you said you don't want to talk to me. That's cool. But I met a girl today. On the base in Baghdad, we just got new transfers. Everyone was excited, but... I couldn't be. Until I saw her. Or she saw me. Whatever. Miss you man. I know you don't like what I'm doing, but write me. _

_-Tunny._

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_**SO... Is it still good? Are you still enjoying it? What will happen from here? Who knows...? (Except for me... :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for my one, amazing review last chapter! Enjoy this one! (By the way, if you can tell me how I got Stockman's call-sign, I will dedicate a chapter to you!)**

"Ah, get some, Tunny!" a voice shouted, backed up by woops and hollers.

Immediately, the three heads in the room snapped to the door. There, in the threshold, stood a handful of men from Tunny's unit, all fighting for a place in the front of the pack. Several in the back jumped up, trying to see over the shaved heads of their comrades, while the ones in the middle shoved the ones in the front. Hubert Stockman, call sign Bluebird, stood his ground in the center though, his arms possessively grabbing the doorframe. He stared down at the couple on the floor- Tunny in his boxers and white undershirt, the brown-eyed girl in her military fatigues, laying haphazardly on top of him. Tunny felt heat flood the girl's hands, though her dark skin refused to betray the blush that threatened her whole body. She shot up, pushing herself away from him and standing at attention. Walking forward stonily, she stared at the top of the doorframe, her chin held high. But before she crossed to exit, she smiled at the men before her.

"Good morning, boys."

Then, she turned to Tunny and winked seductively. Rivers' jaw dropped.

"See you, handsome."

The entire room fell silent. She turned back to the pack in the doorway, smiled sweetly, and then allowed them to part so she could leave. Knowing that she adequately played them, the woman's blush disappeared from her face, and she walked from the room with all the confidence she could muster. And the moment her back rounded the corner, she heard the explosion of noise in Tunny's barracks.

"Man, you are-"

Tunny felt uncountable numbers of hands grab his body and yank him to his feet for the second time that morning. Breath escaped his lungs, and he stared singularly at the door where the mysterious girl exited only moments before. Voices implored him for details as they threw him around the circle furiously.

"How was she-?"

Another spin.

"Tunny, that is one hot piece of-"

Another spin.

"Can I have a try with her-"

At that, Tunny had enough. Fury rose up inside him and he began throwing guys off one by one.

"Get the hell off of me!" He shouted, pushing them back.

Instantly, the soldiers stepped off. They knew Tunny well enough to know that when you worked him up, his strong silence ended, and you'd wished you never thought to cross him. Several, including Rivers, held up their hands in a sign of surrender.

"Cool it, man!" Bluebird said, breaking Tunny away from wailing on one guy that stepped a bit too close.

Tunny stepped back, his jaw set and his eyes burning.

"You can't talk about her that way-" he began.

Dileo stepped up and patted his shoulder.

"King, you've gotta chill. We haven't seen a girl in such a position since Bluebird's girlfriend sent him that-"

Bluebird shot Dileo a look that clearly told him to shut up. Dileo listened and moved from the circle, knowing his jokes could not be appreciated. A long moment of silence passed.

"She was beautiful though," one of the men said through a smile.

Rivers chose that moment to interject himself into the situation. He stepped toward Tunny, who still fumed from the men's words and actions.

"Ah, get outta here," he muttered, shooing them away.

The men immediately scattered, spreading themselves out of the barracks and toward the four corners of the base.

"You alright, Tunny?" he asked, turning to the man and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Tunny shrugged him off.

"Fine."

Rivers let the man retreat into himself. Sliding on his sunglasses, he turned toward the exit to the barracks.

"You better not be getting into that girl when you're supposed to be on patrol! That's all I'm saying!" He joked, turning around mid-stride, and stuck his tongue out at his friend.

Tunny grabbed a tan boot from the barrack floor and threw it at the man just before the door slammed shut, keeping Rivers safe.

"Sick bastard-" the young man left muttered, before going to his bed and plopping facedown on it.

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That night, Tunny received the closest thing to action he had seen his entire tour in Iraq. Looking out onto the Desert horizon, a small figure crept up beside him. He jumped and spun his rifle to face the intruder.

"Calm down, Clarke. It's just me."

Tunny finally got a good view of the face that snuck by his post. Illuminated by the light of a personal computer that she placed on the fence line, the girl from earlier that morning stood beside him. He lowered his weapon.

"Oh. Hello," he began.

She nodded and furiously typed into the computer before her, her eyes not glancing away.

"Hey, Clarke."

Tunny turned back to the fenceline.

"This is my post."

The girl shrugged, looking around.

"I know. I thought you'd be the only one nice enough to let me be here for a minute."

Looking out onto the desolate land in front of him, the man nodded.

"I think you were right about that one," he said through a smile, "Uh- What, exactly, are you doing here?"

Chuckling, the girl pounded the keys on her keyboard.

"I work with a specialized medical team. I run Com. for them. I'm trying to establish a signal with our satellite, but it's being-"

Using her fist, she hit the computer beside the scroll pad.

"Difficult," she finished, listening to the small 'ding' that the computer made in response to a contact finally being made.

A smile crept across her face, joy evident in her eyes even in the dim computer light. Unknowingly, Tunny's smile grew even larger.

"Well, Clarke, this'll have to be goodnight, I think," she said, folding her computer and folding it under her arm.

Tunny stepped back for a moment.

"I'm not sure that it's fair that you know my name, but I don't know yours," he looked down at her fatigues, "Jones."

She nodded.

"Awful observant of you, Clarke," she said, smiling sincerely at him.

He shrugged.

"I do what I can."

She looked up at him, her eyes locking with him. For a long moment, he saw everything that could be shining in those eyes. It filled him with a feeling that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"I think you'll have to earn my name, Clarke. For now, I'm just Jones."

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**Thank you for reading! Please review! It means the world to me!**


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